


I trusted you.

by traumaesistenziale



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, I said POSSIBLY, M/M, Oswald makes a big mistake, POV Oswald Cobblepot, Possibly Unrequited Love, Season/Series 03, Temper Tantrums, accidental murder, i mean it's not that ambiguous but it's open, listen i'm not a good judge of how graphic violence is, there is violence tho so be warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 12:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18031367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traumaesistenziale/pseuds/traumaesistenziale
Summary: Season 3 canon divergence, in which Oswald still kills Isabella but he... takes the matter in his own hands. Literally. Oops!Everybody knows he's prone to anger, it's not a surprise. Except Edward is still just as hurt, accident or not accident."Once, twice, he stopped counting, he genuinely lost count.«He's done with you, do you hear me? You are done!» he shouted again in her face, fingers still gripping at the cloth of her dress, but then he stopped.The room remained in complete silence for a moment. She didn't speak, not even whimper or wheeze. Oswald let go of her dress, the realization of what he might have just done and the implications of it slowly creeping up on him, crawling on his skin, as he felt his breath choke in his throat.He slapped her cheek to check for a response, but he got none. He tried to press two of his fingers on her neck, to feel her pulse, but his hands were suddenly too shaky and she couldn't be sure. Maybe he was just imagining things. He leaned down and put his ear on her chest. Was it hers or was it his, the heartbeat he could hear?"





	I trusted you.

**Author's Note:**

> Here i am again with another season 3 canon divergence... guess who has just too many ideas about how the whole Isabella debacle could have gone and has two thumbs? *points at me* This gal, yay!
> 
> Jokes aside, this is angsty as shit. Buckle up! See yall at the end ;)

He could still hear Edward's pleading tone resonating in his mind when he had asked him to do him this little favor. He didn't refuse, of course he didn't. He couldn't. Not when _the man he had only very recently realized he loved_ had looked at him like that, spoken with that voice. He understood it all too well, that pain. Not being able to be with the person you want to be with... that was really its own kind of torture. He knew this, because on the night he had decided he would confess his feelings to his best friend, said friend had thought it appropriate to meet someone else, to go and fall in love with some random woman after only knowing her for a few hours. He hadn't even bothered to alert Oswald he would be missing dinner, no. He just hadn't showed up until the next morning, to chirpily inform him of his encounter, looking and sounding absolutely ecstatic. He couldn't have matched Oswald's emotions better, except on the exact opposite side of that spectrum. Pain, despair, emptiness, heartbreak. You name it. All those were still slithering around, twisting and merging and diving again in his chest, but above all of them, now shone a light. That's right, that barely warm, yet impossibly bright light was hope. And he was doing his damned best not to be blinded by it, but it grew warmer and warmed by the minute, and he couldn't help himself but smile, as he reached the building he knew Isabella lived in.

Edward had asked him to be gentle. Oswald had assured him he would be, but he already knew that wasn't gonna happen. And he felt even more strongly about this when that woman opened the door and looked at him wide-eyed. No, he wouldn't be gentle. She let him in, after the first stupor.

Oswald walked into her apartment, not paying that much attention to the room he was in, since he didn't really care about the details, although due to a habit he couldn't help but take in more information that he cared to obtain. It was always better to be aware of his surroundings, he had learned this at his expense.

He focused on her. Isabella looked at him expectantly. She didn't seem so happy with his unexpected visit. How could she be, last time he had paid her a visit it had been to not so subtly try to sabotage her relationship by informing her of Edward's past in Arkham. That hadn't worked as he had expected, obviously. Or he wouldn't need to be there right now. Or he wouldn't have an anguished friend anxiously waiting for him at home to know how this would go. Oswald sort of had to wonder, he couldn't help it, what kind of person Isabella had to be to react the way she had to that discovery. He was sure she would have ran screaming. He had foreseen nothing but fear and disgust, maybe even an attempt to get a restraining order for Edward, who knows. That would have made sense. More sense than her deciding her new boyfriend – well, now, that was a big word. They had literally _just met_ – that Edward being a multiple murderer and girlfriend-killer wasn't a deal-breaker after all. What did she expect, really. At this rate she deserved anything that could be possibly coming her way. He didn't even feel bad at the idea that Edward could actually kill her. If it wasn't for the untreatable emotional scar that would have left on him. No, Oswald wasn't that far gone into jealousy to let himself give in to such petty revenge ploys. Sure, it would have felt to him like... some sort of poetic justice, he could have called it. But it wasn't worth completely breaking Edward over it. He needed him whole – needed him? Wanted him? Whatever, same difference.

Isabella was waiting for him to tell her the real reason of his presence in her apartment, and he thought better than to leave her waiting – such a gentleman he was.

«How shall I put this?» he begun, pausing as if he needed to think about it. He didn't. He had already decided the most direct approach would be best. For whom? Well, not for her, for sure, but this wasn't about her. It was payback for daring to think she could take Edward from him. No matter how childish anyone else would have judged this, nobody else was there to judge. So he could be as mean and petty as he felt like being, since this would be the last time he, or Edward, would see of her.

«It's over.» Isabella's eyes went wide, then she frowned a little. He smiled. He meant to enjoy this, and man, was he enjoying it already.

«Excuse me?» was all she managed to say in her utter confusion.

«He is not going to see you anymore. Do not try to contact him. That door is closed. Have a nice life.»

He didn't feel like his previous statement needed an explanation, but he gladly provided one. Just as much salt as he could manage to rub into that wound, he would, and he would do so with a smile.

Isabella gasped and took a step back, as if to steady herself, she leaned on the armrest of her armchair. He watched her cover her mouth with her hand, he listened to her sniffle. With satisfaction, he noticed the tears starting to gather at the corners of her eyes. He hoped they would start falling, he would have loved to see them fall. This was nothing new to him, intimidating an adversary, scaring or hurting someone to their breaking point. Except, usually that was just a little something for his own enjoyment, what came right before he would kill them. This time he wouldn't get that ultimate satisfaction, so this part had to compensate for that, and be at least twice as good.

«Oh, my...» she mumbled to herself, sniffling again. It was clear she was just now starting to process what he had just told her. He expected those tears to start falling any moment now, but he couldn't wait. He had to push a bit more.

«It is such a shock. But besides your... odd resemblance to his ex... a certain facility with riddles... compulsion for order...» he paused, his eyes drifting to the little paper figurines she had made of herself and Ed. He genuinely didn't expect he would find these many things to list. Well, it was _three_ things. One of which didn't really count, since her appearance was the exact reason Ed had asked him to come here and break up with her. But he didn't let himself be side-tracked, he had a point to make.

«What is it that you two really have in common?» he asked with a condescending smile.

That was it, then. _Two_ things. She looked like a woman he had killed, and she was good at riddles. But those were superficial aspects, he thought. Surely, there was more to a person that made them a suitable candidate as a romantic partner. Take him, for example. He had known Edward since when he still worked at the GCPD. He had saw him become the person he was now, he had even had a hand in it, he felt like he could proudly say. He and Ed had shared intimate moments. Ed had helped him through one of the roughest moments in his life. They had been by each other's side, he had visited him in Arkham and even gotten him released from that hell. They understood each other, believed in each other. He could see Edward's potential, and Edward could see his, and both of them tried to work to help the other fulfill said potential. It was a mutually beneficial relationship, they needed each other.

What did she have to offer, instead? A bone-chilling sense of deja-vu every time Ed looked at her? Understanding his riddles immediately instead of staring at him and looking like a moron? Whatever.

«Ed is a person of exceptional intelligence and imagination. He deserves to be appreciated by someone on his own level. And you, my dear... are simply _not_. Best to end things now.»

He meant every word.

«You are right.» she said, shaking her head, bashfully glancing up at him, «I don't deserve him.»

Oswald smiled. No. No, she didn't. He knew this, he felt it. He didn't need reassuring. Still, he felt immensely pleased to hear those words come from her.

«Glad we agree.» he smiled. So this was it, then. Faster than he expected. But if she really agreed with him, then, there wasn't much else for him to do here. He had done his job, now he was tired of seeing her face, so he thought it best to take his leave now.

«Bye.» he begun to walk past her, but to his surprise, she stood up and in his way. He glared at her.

«But I'm not gonna let him go. He loves me. And I love him.» she sniffled and looked at him in the eyes, completely ignoring what he had just said. Saying he wasn't expecting this would be and understatement.

«Do you know how rare that is, Mr. Mayor?» she asked, peering into his eyes, prying, as if she could see something she wasn't meant to and she looked way too damn interested in it, whatever it was.

He felt his entire body tense up, some sort of defense mechanism, as if this could stop her from prying.

He also tried to make his face a cold unreadable mask, but he was still too much in shock to completely succeed. He could feel the anger build up inside of him. He stared her down, his furrowed brow meant as a warning. She should have gotten the warning and should have known better than to keep looking at him like that. Then, something about her expression changed, and he felt simultaneously a chill down the back of his neck – was he sweating? – and a certain warmth gather in his chest – rage, ready to spill out. He couldn't help but panic a little, realizing what that subtle change in her expression meant. It was obviously recognition, which meant his barriers hadn't worked as well as he thought, and he suddenly felt exposed. More than he wanted to or had expected to be.

«Of course you do. Because you love him too.» those words left her mouth with such simplicity, like that was the most trivial thing to say, and this infuriated him even more. If that wasn't enough, she also stepped closer, way closer than he wanted her to be right now. He couldn't understand what she was trying to do. Invading another person's personal space without permission was a commonly used intimidation tactic, he was no stranger to it himself, so he had to wonder, was this what this was? What she was trying to do? He wouldn't have thought a librarian would be aware of this little trick, but regardless. If she thought she could scare him into backing out she was oh!– _so mistaken_.

He most of all didn't like the insinuation that the both of them were somehow competing, as if this could even be considered a competition, and as if she had ever been in any place to win.

«I can see it...» she added, walking even closer. He clenched his fists at his sides until the skin on his knuckles went white, but he took a step back. He wanted to put the right distance between them, but he realized too late how that would look. _Like he was scared_. This didn't help his growing urge to lash out. He meant to maintain composure because he figured in this situation, acting as calm as she was would be the best way to show he wasn't fazed. But he was. He was very upset.

«I'm not even jealous...» those words made something click in his brain. Like he had been doubting it until now, too insane for it to be true, that this meek soft-voiced little librarian, a nobody, would dare to stand up to him. But those last words had made it abundantly clear, she really thought she had won. “Not even jealous” implied she wasn't intimidated by him. She knew how he felt, and she didn't deem him a threat. That, was her biggest mistake. Nobody – _nobody_ – underestimated or undermined Oswald Cobblepot and not lived to regret it. And then, well, stopped living.

She sighed and smiled at him. He slowly exhaled, trying to calm himself down enough to respond. It didn't need to be like that, she didn't have to be difficult, but he wasn't afraid to put her back in her place.

«I-I don't think you understand-» he started saying, but she dared interrupt him. Simply out of shock, he actually shut up and glared at her, barely hiding his rage anymore. He could feel his blood pumping fast, he could hear it, almost. He clenched his jaw as he listened to what she had to say.

«It's my glasses this morning, they reminded him of Miss Kringle.» she paused to sniffle, but she sounded confident. Too confident, for Oswald's taste. «He is afraid he is going to hurt me like he hurt her.»

She was right, that was exactly what happened. But she was still wrong, on so many levels, on so many things. First of all, it wasn't a mere hypothetical situation, Edward could have actually killed her, and the more he thought about it, the more he found himself wishing that he had. And secondly, she was wrong to act like this. She didn't even realize it, did she? The danger she was in right now. It's like she hadn't noticed the anger, the fury, sizzling and buzzing like hot electrified wire, under his skin, right below the surface, battling to come out, but he held it down. For now.

He took a deep breath, his lips pressed tightly in a straight line.

He would tell her, one last time. She'd better listen, or he swore to God, he wasn't sure if he could keep it together much longer. Or if he wanted to, honestly.

«Listen to me, you little idiot. I'm telling you, one last time.» he paused, meaning to make his next words very, very clear, just as clear as the threat barely concealed behind them, «Let. Ed. Go.»

«No.»

He winced. She was still smiling, but she had this look in her eyes, like her determination was now stronger than ever. That... lack of an appropriate response would have been enough for him. She should have been scared, she should have backed off, apologized, fall to her knees and _beg_ for him to spare her life, but no. She had this... he couldn't call it smugness, about her, because her smile appeared too sweet, and her eyes conveyed something Oswald could have sworn was pity, but her arrogance... that was undeniable. And unforgivable. And she would pay for it.

As if she hadn't gotten the memo yet, she thought it right to add something else. As if she hadn't realized it yet, that every word she said, with every passing second, was taking her closer to her end, now only inches away.

«I will write to him, I will make him understand he has nothing to fear. I'm not gonna let him go.» she had somehow stepped even closer than Oswald thought was possible. He didn't step back, this time. He was done being shocked and appearing weak. He was done taking any more shit from her. He stood his ground and stared her down with a glare. He bared his teeth as he opened his mouth to speak, unsure what he was even gonna say, but he closed it instead. His heartbeat was so loud in his ears, thinking was impossible.

«I'm warning you. You are crossing a line.» that was bullshit, he was done “warning”. This was a threat. He guessed he wanted to see of she would sense it this time, but he guessed not, because her demeanor didn't change. Her smile got wider, instead, and she tilted her head. There it was again, that thing Oswald had labeled as “pity” in her eyes. How dare she look at him like that?

«It must hurt. I understand, Mr. Mayor.» he couldn't believe his ears. Was she mocking him? Was she sincere? He couldn't decide which was worse, because both were extremely stupid in this scenario either way. He clenched his fist around his cane, before even realizing it. He glared at her, his nostrils dilating which each breath as he exhaled, clenching his teeth.

Before he knew it, he swung his cane, hitting her across the face, with way more force than he had anticipated, or maybe not. He watched her stumble and fall to the floor. He stood over her, watching her slowly reach to touch her cheek. She looked at her hand. There was a bit of blood on it. Then she looked up, and to Oswald's immense relief her expression had finally changed. Now, there it was. The fear, although he thought she looked way more shocked than she should have been, like she really hadn't seen this coming.

Oswald took a long, slow breath, trying to regain his composure. He put on a pleasant smile, doing a relatively good job at not baring his teeth at her in a snarl. That had been enough to make him feel better already, there was no need to push this any further. He just needed to make sure she understood who she was dealing with, then he would leave, like he had already tried to.

«I need you to understand, that line you crossed, well, crossing it comes with consequences.» he said, in the most casual tone he could muster, a bit reprimanding, a bit condescending, like he was just informing her she had almost stepped in a puddle and gotten her shoes wet, and not threatening her life.

«You have no right to do this, Ed loves me. You must accept this, Mr. Cobblepot, he chose _me_.»

Well, those weren't the words he was expecting her to say, but he guessed at this point he shouldn't be surprised. At least, now her tone had changed. None of the previous confidence – oh, she still sounded like she believed what she was saying, but she also sounded like she finally understood she had made a big mistake. This thought pleased him, but it wasn't enough to compensate for the meaning of that sentence.

No, that part, it made him very, very angry, again. He had been trying to calm down, and he was in control, but the rage wasn't gone, he had just merely placated it for a bit, but it was ready to jump out again. And he was ready to let it, if need be.

«You'll find, _my dear_ , I have any right to do _anything_ I want. Ed sent me here, so don't think he doesn't know.»

He lied. Well, part of it was a lie. Ed certainly wouldn't be happy he had just hit Isabella, but if he could convince her that Ed didn't care, that would be enough to make him happy again, and maybe he wouldn't need to inflict any more damage. Maybe he could resist the urge to hurt her – well, to hurt her _physically_. Hurt her any further, he meant.

She still looked at him from her place on the floor, eyes still wide, and she frowned, blinking helplessly at him.

«No, he wouldn't... you are lying! Ed loves me! I know he does!» she raised her voice, just above her usual tone. It was still odd, coming from her, it felt a bit out of character. Good, he thought. That meant he was doing a good job at breaking her. He bared his teeth, it wasn't clear if that was meant to be a smile, and it probably didn't quite look like one, but he didn't care.

She sat up, appearing to have regained some of her previous confidence all of sudden. God, did she ever give up? Oswald had to give it to her, she was one tenacious woman. He grimaced, understanding she was about to talk again, and mentally preparing for it, almost curious about what she could have to say now.

«You know he loves me, that's why you are doing this. You want to scare me off, but you are the one who's scared. And I won't let go.»

Oswald could swear this time “smugness” was a term that could actually be appropriately applied to her tone and expression. Oh, this was a change. He wasn't sure it was a good change, but it was different at least. He didn't appreciate it, though. Any sense of respect he could pretend to have for her persistence dissipated into hatred. He could still feel it, that soothed anger, bubbling up again.

It wasn't much of a choice, even less than it had been last time. His grip on his cane tightened and he found himself swinging it again. The next thing he knew, he had dropped it and he found himself straddling her. The shock and fear, and pain from the previous blow – to her temple apparently, as testified by the blood that had begun dripping down the side of her face – were as clear as day now.

He wasn't sure how or when, but he punched her. She groaned, and he punched her again, and again. He stopped just for a moment. His chest visibly expanding and compressing with each of his short breaths, which came out of his partly separated lips, through his teeth with a barely audible hiss. He looked at her bloodied face, and the terror was still visible, which could have been good, since getting her scared was what he wanted, but it still felt wrong, because as long as he could still see any expression at all on her face, it meant her features were still discernible, and that just couldn't do.

She let out a whimper, nothing more than a whisper really, and hadn't he been so close to her he could have missed it.

«Pl-please... Stop... S-stop...» he could have sworn she sounded like she was crying. Was she? There was too much blood on her face to be able to tell apart any tears.

«Ed... _Ed_...» he actually almost missed this one, since it was quieter than the last. He could have been wrong, but was she calling Edward? As if he could hear her? She must have been totally out of it due to the pain, he thought, but that didn't stop him from feeling another surge of rage from deep down in his stomach, all the way up to his chest, and into his limbs.

«Shut. The. Fuck. Up.» he raised his voice without realizing it, and punctuated each word with a new blow, her face turning now to one side, now to the other with each one, depending on the direction in which he hit her.

«He can't hear you!» he leaned down, stopping just inches away and basically shouted to her face.

He saw her blink, and a sound came out of her mouth, but no words this time. Now, that was more like it. But he still wasn't satisfied, no. He leaned back and grabbed the collar of her dress, lifting her up just enough to put some distance between her head and the floor, and then slammed her head back against it. Once, twice, he stopped counting, he genuinely lost count.

«He's done with you, do you hear me? You are done!» he shouted again in her face, fingers still gripping at the cloth of her dress, but then he stopped.

The room remained in complete silence for a moment. She didn't speak, not even whimper or wheeze. Oswald let go of her dress, the realization of what he might have just done and the implications of it slowly creeping up on him, crawling on his skin, as he felt his breath choke in his throat.

He slapped her cheek to check for a response, but he got none. He tried to press two of his fingers on her neck, to feel her pulse, but his hands were suddenly too shaky and she couldn't be sure. Maybe he was just imagining things. He leaned down and put his ear on her chest. Was it hers or was it his, the heartbeat he could hear? He inhaled sharply and tried to calm himself down. He closed his eyes and tried to focus.

Nothing. He really could hear nothing, expect for the sound of his own blood rushing in his own veins in his eardrums. That had to be it. So it was _his_ heartbeat, after all.

He suddenly leaned back, looking at her in horror. He now noticed the ever-growing pool of red surrounding her head. Her fair hair were drenched in blood. Her swollen, bloodied face, completely relaxed. He stared for one moment longer, he couldn't tell how long, then he stood up, almost as if suddenly repelled by her body and he took several steps back.

From afar, the picture was somehow even worse. Now he could see the full result of his actions, the pool of blood slowly seeping under the armchair, her body completely still. There was no mistaking it, her chest was still as well. No breathing.

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He unclenched his fists and he looked down at his hands. His knuckles were covered in blood. Even for him it was hard to tell where hers ended and his begun.

It would have been obvious by now, but he realized panic had already settled in. He could try to fight it, but there wasn't much he could do. He breathed in and out a few times, stretching and wiggling his fingers, toes curling in his shoes. He had to do something.

He wasn't sure what the first thing to do would be, but he quickly moved to the bathroom, looking for towels. He picked a bunch he could find and he ran back to the living-room. God, was he imagining things or had that pool managed to double in size in the meantime? He didn't have time to decide, and it didn't really matter anyway, so he just walked over and placed the towels on the floor to try to soak up as much blood as he could. He placed one right under her head, just to be sure, then he stood up again. He begun pacing, every once in a while looking back at Isabella's body, trying to figure out what to do next. Edward couldn't know this had happened. He was waiting at home, so Oswald couldn't take too long to solve this, or he would start to get worried. Right. So he had to be quick too.

He suddenly remembered he hadn't come alone – as if he ever drove his own car anywhere – and he almost slapped himself in the face. Of course. He walked back to the bathroom and he washed his hands. He looked in the mirror. He looked like shit, honestly. He told himself he had to keep it together, so he washed his face as well, then he reached for a towel, but he realized there weren't any. He grunted and rolled his eyes at... well, at himself. He didn't have time for this, so he sighed and just went straight for the door, stopping only to pick up his cane on his way. He stopped just before closing the door behind him, remembering just in time, and he took the keys from a bowl at the entrance. Right, that was smart. He had to close the door, to avoid anyone getting curious and peeking in, but if he had the key he wouldn't have to break in to get it open again.

He walked so fast he might as well have ran all the way until he was outside. He approached the car and opened the door, leaning inside. Gabe gaped at him.

«You alright boss?»

Oswald shook his head, not to answer the question, but to get it out of the way, discarding it as out of place and a waste of time.

He didn't explain, not there, not now, but he told Gabe he needed help and ordered him to follow him. It wasn't until they had gotten into the apartment again that Oswald sighed and pointed at the body, and he finally let him know what the problem was – _as if wasn't apparent_.

No, he hadn't meant to. No, of course if he had he would have done a cleaner job. No, Ed must absolutely never know about this. No, and _you need to shut up or I will have_ two _bodies to sneak out of this apartment complex_ – God, couldn't Gabe just do as he was told and stop questioning him? He didn't need his subordinate judging him right now, he needed his arms to move a body, and he needed that floor to be scrubbed before the blood could seep deeper into- oh, hell. It was probably already too late, but he had to try. He didn't know how the hell he would cover his tracks this time, but this was taking too long, and he needed to go back to Edward soon and tell him how it went.

No, not literally tell him how it had gone, that would be unadvisable, but Ed was going to want to know how Isabella hand taken it, and he would have to lie, and make up a convincing lie as well.

However he and Gabe managed to do... well, some sort of job at cleaning up that mess, Oswald found himself back at the mansion. His face and hands had had time to dry up by then, towels or no towels, but they had also had time to get clammy as well. He cleaned his face with his handkerchief, just before walking inside, then he folded it back as best as he could and he took a deep breath. Well, there was no delaying this.

As soon as he stepped in, Edward ran to him.

«Oswald!» he called him, then he stood in front of him, nervously fidgeting with his hands.

«So? How did she take it?»

There was the obvious question. Nothing he didn't expect, and he was prepared for it. He had rehearsed the lie he was gonna tell, on the ride back.

«She... was upset. Took some convincing, but she understood.» he said with a smile that he hoped – _God, he hoped_ – would appear as sincere and relaxed as he was trying to make it.

Edward nodded and he seemed lost in thought for a moment, then his shoulders seemed to relax a bit. Unconsciously, Oswald relaxed a little as well.

«Do you think she is going to be okay?» Ed asked after a moment, biting the inside of his lip, looking at him with a lightly concerned frown.

Oswald stared back for just a second too long, thinking of what to say, desperate not to use the wrong words. The sooner he could get this over with, the sooner Ed would move on, the sooner both of them could move on, and Oswald could finally breathe again.

«...Sure.» he ended up saying, simply, with a small smile. Ed nodded again.

«I should check up on her. Not in person, but I should-» Edward said, correcting himself half way through, and all Oswald could do was gape at him, feeling the panic rise again, and when he finally snapped out of it enough to speak, he ended up interrupting Edward.

«No need! No need.» he paused, coughing against his knuckles, more of a nervous gesture than anything, taking the time to carefully pick his next words.

«She, uh, she left Gotham.» he watched Edward's eyes widen a little.

«Yeah, she... she was too upset. She said she couldn't bear to stay in the same city as you any longer, if you couldn't be together.» he watched his friend's reaction very closely, looking for any hit of doubt, but he just frowned. His eyes were on him, but he could tell he wasn't looking, he was simply lost in thought, still busy processing this information. Oswald held his breath until Ed's eyes focused back on him.

«She just left?» he asked. Just looking for confirmation this information was right, before archiving it away in his brain, surely. Oswald couldn't detect any particular emotion in his tone.

«Yes. She's probably already on a train right now, just gone.» he would have let himself let out a breath of relief, but he just sighed, trying to mask it. His heart was still pounding.

«Well, better not to dwell too much on it, what's done is done, and this was the best way this could end. Now you should start working on moving on...» he begun saying, with a big smile, but it faltered a bit when Ed looked back at him with a subtle change of expression he didn't like. He immediately regretted saying that. There must have been something wrong with it, he was sure. He bit his tongue.

«Moving on it's gonna take time.» was all Ed said, and Oswald once again felt himself relax. He nodded.

«Of course.»

Ed reciprocated his smile, briefly, before he let it fell, clearly still too hurt to pretend. Then his eyes flickered to a lower point somewhere underneath Oswald's chin, and he almost seemed to do a double take, opening and closing his mouth without speaking, before focusing again on that spot. Oswald couldn't help but look down, trying to see whatever Ed must have been looking at, but he didn't see anything. He looked up and he saw Edward frown. _Oh, no_. This wasn't a good sign. He felt it.

«Is that... do you have blood on the collar of your shirt?»

Oswald's eyes widened, he opened his mouth wider than necessary, willing to speak, but nothing came out, not at first.

«Wh-what? Oh. I- uh... I don't... know. Do- Do I?»

Edward's frown lifted up and he gave him a little reprimanding smile.

«You should be more careful with your laundry. If you got some blood on it that dried up, and you don't want to put in the work to make sure it's clean, it would be safer to just throw it all away. You can buy a new shirt.» his friend scolded him, but there was some fondness in his words, or maybe Oswald wanted it there to be. Regardless, he nervously smiled, huffing out a laugh.

«Of course! Silly me.» he said, dramatically slapping his forehead. Ed seemed to share his hilarity and simply shook his head a bit, before excusing himself for a reason or other, and getting back to his duties.

It had gone far better than he had expected, and once alone, Oswald was finally able to take his deep breath of relief.

That relief, however, wouldn't last long.

He didn't see Edward for the rest of the day, but he didn't think too much of it, confident that the worst was already past him.

He had been sitting at the dinner table, waiting for Edward, for a while, and he was starting to get antsy. He didn't know why, there was probably no reason to get anxious, but maybe it was just the fact that last time Ed had been this late for a dinner, it had been the day he had met Isabella. Rationally, Oswald knew this annoying sense of deja-vu was just that. A feeling. But he couldn't shake it off, and he was beginning to grow apprehensive about this whole deal.

Then, Edward finally walked in, and almost instinctively, Oswald stood up. Ed walked to his seat, barely looking up at him, only flashing him a smile for what had to be a millisecond, before sitting down. Oswald stood there just a moment longer, trying to decipher that odd behavior, then he imitated him, getting back in his seat.

«You were late, I was beginning to worry-»

«I apologize for my tardiness.» Edward cut him off, way too bluntly to be a coincidence. Oswald's mouth hanged open just a moment longer, before he closed it and he frowned. He observed the way his friend was sitting – stiff, with both his hands at the sides of his plate, looking down at it, but not really looking – Oswald could tell.

«Is everything okay?» he couldn't help it, he was growing worried. He reached out, but just a second before he could touch Edward's hand, he pulled away. He still wasn't looking at him.

«...Ed?»

Finally his eyes rose to meet his, and Oswald didn't like what he saw. He couldn't have described it, or given it a name, but there was something dark swirling in his eyes. He wasn't exactly frowning, but his brow looked stern. His lips were pressed together in a way that only made Oswald more anxious when he noticed.

«Do you know what was the lie I told everyone when they started questioning Miss Kringle's absence from the GCPD?»

Oswald blinked once or twice in the time it took him to process the question that he had just been asked. He knew he had reason to be afraid, his brain had simply slowed down too much for him to catch up on _why_ in that moment. He knew that question wasn't a riddle, but it might as well have been. He had no idea what Ed expected him to answer, but he knew he didn't want to say the wrong thing. It must have taken him too long to decide what to say, because his friend continued, not waiting for an actual response. Oswald just stared.

«I told them she had left the city.»

Oswald swallowed. Ed's tone was flat enough to sound like he was just stating a fact, but a twitch of his eyebrow betrayed the real feeling behind it. Besides, Oswald knew his friend well enough to know that that feeling was anger, anyway.

«Ed, I... I don't know what-» he tried to... to what? Dissimulate? He wasn't even sure what he was gonna say, but Edward shot him a look that cut him off anyway. His hands were clenched in fists.

«Don't. Lie. To me.»

Edward paused. Some of his anger now seeping into his tone, his brow furrowed just a little further.

«Where is she?»

Oswald's mind went completely blank. His heart felt like it was trying to break through his ribs. He fidgeted with his fingers a bit, trying to think of what he could say that could be a lie truly convincing enough to placate Edward, but if he had reached the conclusion he thought he had reached, Ed must have investigated already. Oswald didn't know how much Ed knew, and he didn't want to incriminate himself by accidentally saying the wrong thing, so he just stared, eyes wide.

«Where is she, Oswald?» Ed repeated, turning his body more towards him, leaning forward just a little bit. His voice was harsher now, louder too.

«She- I told you, she... she told me she would leave. I didn't check on her claim, but I-»

Oswald tried to remove any responsibility from himself, but he knew from the subtle grimace forming on his face, that Edward wasn't having it.

«The blood on your shirt, earlier today.»

Edward paused. Oswald took this time to consider every and any possible escape plan, but he realized he didn't have any. Even if he had wanted, he couldn't have run. His body felt like frozen, he was stuck in that chair. His throat felt so dry, and his hands felt clammy when he rubbed his fingers against his palms. He just waited for the rest of that thought.

«Whose blood was it?» Ed finally asked after what felt like forever.

Oswald knew exactly what that question meant. He knew the answer Ed was expecting, and he knew that denying now would have been pointless. Still, he wished he could at least try, skimming through his jumbled up thought to find anything he could ever say that could convince Ed he was innocent.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. He didn't look away from his friend's eyes and weakly shook his head, as if to make up for his loss of words.

Ed gasped. He didn't need to say anything, that had been enough. Oswald pressed his lips tight and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. There was nothing he could do, now. The cat was out of the bag – the cat in this case being the lifeless, bloodied, body of Edward's ex-girlfriend. He wondered if Ed had found her, if he had seen her. Maybe he had gone to the apartment and found something out of place. Oswald wished he knew, he wished he could ask, as if knowing could change something, but he still couldn't speak. He opened his eyes, letting out a long breath through his nose, and he dared to look back at him.

Ed was staring at him, mouth still lightly agape, eyes quickly watering up.

«Oswald... what did you do?»

He knew that question was rhetoric, and he didn't feel compelled to answer. Not that he would have, any other way. Ed's tone wasn't even accusatory anymore, he just sounded... sad. Like he had already come to terms with the reality of what Oswald had done, and this was the second stage, where he was simply mourning the loss of a life, and he was just extremely disappointed in Oswald. Like he had no hope for him anymore, like he was too far gone. He had stepped too far, and now he couldn't come back. He felt his own lip tremble. He wasn't about to cry, far from it, it was more of a nervous thing.

He opened his mouth to speak, and Edward looked like he was waiting for him to say something. Maybe he was wrong, maybe Ed did want an answer, after all. Oswald swallowed one more time, in a useless attempt to make his throat moist again. He inhaled deeply, preparing to speak all in one breath. He needed Edward to listen to him, but no matter how interested Ed looked right now, he couldn't be sure that if he hesitated even for a second, he would let him finish.

«Ed... I beg you to understand that it was an accident.»

At the end of his sentence his voice got to a slightly higher pitch, caught by surprise, because half way through his sentence, Edward abruptly stood up, staring at him from his elevated position. Oswald couldn't help it, but he felt intimidated and his tone had ended up sounding way less confident, and way more pleading than he had planned. He looked up at his friend, eyes wide. Ed's hands were closed in fists again, his jaw was clenched and that deep, dark shadow he had seen swirling in his eyes was back, now more powerful than before, enough to overwhelm Oswald with a simple glance. He found himself frozen again.

«You... you admit it. You killed her.» when Edward spoke, his words were more like a hiss coming out through his teeth.

Oswald instinctively tried to stand up, but Edward's stance changed just enough to look even more intimidating, like he had just ordered him without even saying a word, and he found himself sitting back down. Still, he needed to explain himself, so he spoke, voice coming out more broken that he thought it would.

«I- I did. I didn't mean to, she... she provoked me, I couldn't- I couldn't help myself.» Ed scoffed, but Oswald pushed through, «Ed, Ed please, forgive me, I- I don't know what came over me, I- I just...»

«That's not what I sent you there for! You just had to- I don't understand. Why? Why would you do this?» Ed's tone and expression both changed through a series of emotions so quickly in the span of such a short amount of time. He went from anger, to disappointment, maybe even resignation, and then just confusion, with a minuscule hint of curiosity.

Oswald felt like his heart had jumped up in throat and he couldn't breathe all of sudden, his chest almost hurting for how fast his hear was beating. He felt almost dizzy, maybe it was a good thing he hadn't stood up, after all. He tried to make clarity, once again desperate to choose the right words, but he felt, now more than before, that he could never chose the right ones. Because there was no right thing to say, nothing that would be right by Edward – but he knew what felt right to say at that moment, or at least, right for himself. He had wanted to say it, and so many times he had tried, but always failed, for one reason or another. This wasn't how he would have ever meant to say it, but he couldn't help it. It just came out of him before he could stop it. His voice cracking, his breath shaky, and an overwhelming sense of doom looming over his shoulder, pressing him down into that chair. He pressed his fingers so hard into his palms it almost hurt, but it barely registered.

«Because I love you.»

He only realized what he had just said when he saw Ed straighten his back, as if he'd wanted to distance himself from him, and his eyes went wide. Wider than he had ever seen them before.

Oswald shouldn't have felt good about this, in no reasonable state of mind, but he had stopped feeling reasonable a while ago. Ed's reaction hurt him, but besides that, it felt impossibly liberating to have said it out loud. Now that Ed finally knew, he felt like he could have shouted it off the rooftop. This was scary, but oddly exciting too.

Ed didn't respond. He just stared at him for what felt like an absurdly long time.

«Ed? I... I love you.» he said after a while. He couldn't bear that silence anymore, he needed Ed to respond – to laugh, to scream, to spit in his face – he would have accepted anything other than this... absence of a reaction. This, whatever it was. It was terrifying.

«You...» Ed begun, but his words seemed to die in his throat and he had to stop. He closed his eyes and bowed his head for a moment, probably taking a deep breath, although silent enough that Oswald couldn't heat it, before looking up at him again. Maybe shutting his eyes had been meant to push back the tears, but if so, it clearly hadn't succeeded. His eyes looked red and puffy.

«You... don't know _anything_ about what love is.» Ed almost growled at him, taking a step forward, pointing an accusatory finger at Oswald. He found himself trapped in his chair, Ed standing in front of him. Now, if he really had wanted to leave, it would have been truly impossible.

«I... I do. I do love you, Ed.»

Oswald tried to convince him, but Ed closed his eyes again, fiercely shaking his head, before speaking again.

«You don't.» his voice almost seemed to break on that last syllable, «You have no idea what being in love means.» he walked even closer, until he was standing almost between Oswald's legs – he was forced to tilt his head back to look up at him.

«Love. Is sacrifice. Love is putting another person's happiness before your own.» he continued. Oswald's hands clenched into fist in his lap, not knowing what else to do. He just stared.

«I wanted to save her. That's why I was breaking up with her, I sent _you_ , because I _trusted_ you.»

Ed's words came out like a low rumbly whisper, the force of his tone not at all diminished by the lower volume. He stepped even closer, even if Oswald didn't think it would be possible. He let his mouth hang open, a sting in his eyes alerting him that tears were at the ready, just in case he felt like crying. He could have squeezed his eyes shut to get them out of the way, but he couldn't bring himself to look away from Ed even for a second.

« _...When I couldn't trust myself_.» that last bit came out almost as an after-thought, much lower than before, as if it had come out against Ed's will.

As he kept looking into those shiny dark eyes, he finally understood something he hadn't so far. And it finally hit him, the depth of the damage he had inflicted to what he called his best friend.

He hadn't simply killed the woman he loved – or, claimed to love, but this wasn't an appropriate thought for now – he had betrayed his trust. He was his only true friend, and he had betrayed him. Then lied about it, denied it to his face, only further breaking that trust. He understood. Of course, how could Ed believe anything he said now? How could he believe him when he told him he loved him, after destroying all the trust he had ever had in him? He had been a fool to confess now. This isn't how he wanted that to go. He needed Ed to believe him, but he started to fear it was too late.

«Ed, I-» _I'm so sorry, I wish I could go back and change what I've done._

Those sincere words were interrupted when Ed grabbed his throat with both of his hands, wrapping them around his neck, pressing ever so gently, yet enough to make him feel the loss of air in his lungs. Instead of the rest of that sentence, a little surprised wheeze came out.

He looked at him wide-eyed, unable to do much else. Part of him felt he deserved this, but the other part of him that wanted to live raised his hands to helplessly grab Ed's wrists, trying to get him to let go, but that only made Ed tighten his grip.

His lips were pressed together in a straight line, only partly betraying what almost seemed like effort, even if doing what he was doing didn't take that much strength. Maybe the effort came from something else, maybe from trying to keep a stern, blank expression, when his face so badly wanted to betray whatever emotion he had been feeling right now. Oswald's part of the brain that was still capable of coherent thought, wished he could know what those emotions were. If these were his last moments, he at least wished he could know what the man killing him truly felt – about this, about _him_. If this really was the end, he above all wished he could get a few more words in. He had to try.

«I love you.» he mouthed, hoping Ed would understand. He saw him look at his lips, and the next instant the grip tightened even more, forcing a strangled whimper out of him, the only sound he could hope to produce right now.

«I love you. I... love you.» he kept mouthing. His eyes were so filled up with tears he could barely see, the man lumbering before him more of a dark green and brown blur than anything else. He blinked to try to get the tears to fall, to clear his vision at least a little, and it sort of worked. He could feel them stream down his cheeks, then down his neck, until they clashed against Ed's skin, collecting in the place where Ed's hands connected with his throat. At that first contact, Ed let out an almost inaudible gasp, and since Oswald could finally see him, he was able to see his subtle chance in expression.

Oswald gave up trying to claw at Ed's wrists, he didn't have much energy left, even despite the adrenaline, he just let his hands fall down to his sides, his mouth still open in his best attempt to keep breathing, and the corner of his lips turned just a little bit upwards, which Ed seemed to notice.

He didn't know what it was exactly that had made him want to smile, and he was acutely aware of how out of place that reaction could seem – or just was, probably – but there was something about the reaction his tears had elicited in Edward that had given him hope that maybe he didn't want him dead, after all. This didn't change the fact that he was still trying to kill him, regardless of what he wanted to do or not do, but maybe part of it was the delirium from the lack of oxygen. He felt that if that wouldn't have made him choke quicker, probably, he would have attempted a laugh too.

It was as if Edward could read his mind, before the grip had loosened a bit, while Edward peered into his eyes, probably trying to understand, but then it strengthened again, with new-found determination – or so it would look like. Oswald couldn't be entirely sure of this either – there was very little he felt sure about right now, besides the hand pressing on his trachea, the lack of oxygen in his brain, and his love for the man currently trying to kill him – but it felt like Ed was hesitating now. No matter how much deeper he could frown, Oswald could see it. Those hands squeezed just a little tighter – and Oswald doubted his conjecture – but just for a moment, before letting go and falling by Edward's sides.

Oswald gasped for air and coughed, bending forward, the top of his head brushing against Ed's stomach, before he was able to start searching for those brown eyes again. He brought one hand to his neck, tentatively massaging it a bit, trying to swallow and finding it harder than he though.

When he found those eyes, he found them still looking down at him. Ed's lips imperceptibly trembling. That swirling frightening darkness was still present, Oswald noticed. He straightened his back, trying to regain some composure, as if looking a little disheveled wouldn't be completely normal after something like this. But he didn't care about appearances, really, he was more preoccupied with trying to decipher Edward's expression.

They stared at each other like that for what seemed like an eternity, and yet when Ed spoke again, suddenly it felt like it hadn't been long enough.

«I... don't want... to kill you.»

Oswald felt his heart skip a beat. He would have liked to feel relieved, but Ed looked like he wasn't finished, and Oswald felt it was too soon to celebrate. He only wished he could have managed to slip in a few words himself, before Edward could continue, but he simply didn't have the time.

«I want to _destroy_ you.»

Those words landed on him like Ed hand hit him with a bag of bricks. He felt his blood freeze. Cold sweat rolled down the side of his forehead, and he would have wanted to speak, to say just about anything that could be considered a response, but partly because of his still sore throat, partly because his brain refused to collaborate to form a coherent sentence in time, he didn't say anything.

Before he could muster the courage to do or say anything at all, Ed turned on his heels and walked out of the room with fast long steps, and a moment later he was gone.

Oswald swallowed again, and he reached for his throat, surprised when he found it hurt, as if he had forgotten already.

He stared blankly at the last spot he had last seen Edward.

He considered whether to follow him or not, but he found out his legs still weren't in the mood for working. He got the feeling, even if he had managed to stand up, they would have felt like jelly anyway. He just sat there, thinking about everything that had just happened and about everything they had said to each other, and even about Isabella – her body carelessly dumped somewhere where he had hoped Ed couldn't find it.

The part of his brain that previously had told him he deserved it, came back with a vengeance, telling him this wasn't fair. That Ed should have finished what he had started. But the other part of his brain – remember that one, the one that wanted to desperately cling to life? – warned him that if that's what he was worried about, he shouldn't be because there would be reckoning soon enough.

“ _I want to destroy you.”_

And whatever that was going to be, he felt with with a shiver of dread, it would most likely make him wish Edward had actually finished his job today, he knew Ed would make sure of it. He knew how his friend's brain worked, after all – he paused at the word “friend”. He considered if he should still address him as such, after everything that had happened that day.

No, they clearly couldn't call each other friends anymore. And Oswald had no choice, if Ed would come for him, he would have to fight back. So that made them enemies. But he new this too, deep down, that he would never be able to stop thinking about Ed that way. No matter what he would do to him.

He knew he loved Edward, and maybe Ed was right, maybe he didn't know how to love someone else right, yet. But he could try.

He couldn't be sure that Edward would ever forgive him, but he made a promise to himself. No matter what would happen from now on, he would never hurt Edward, ever again. Even if killing Isabella had been an accident, that didn't justify it. Sure, it explained it, but it wasn't enough to demand forgiveness.

Oswald needed to make it right, somehow.

Just like he had worked hard his whole life to get to where he was and to have what he had – even if none of it felt truly worth anything, if he didn't have someone to share it with... and he wanted that someone to be _him_ – he wasn't sure how, exactly, and he knew it would be hard – especially foreseeing everything that Ed could possibly throw at him to tear him down – and he knew nothing might ever be enough to regain Ed's trust, but he knew this: he was in love with Edward, and if he wasn't the man Edward deserved, he would work his ass off to become it.

This much was certain.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So there, i said i would do it and i did it which is ???????
> 
> So, after "Tear it all to shreds", i said i "might" write something else... which i mostly said with little to no hope that that would actually happen, but i spent an entire day writing this, all in one sitting, then i read it again and i posted (typos??? in my hastily written fanfiction? more likely than you think)
> 
> So, yeah, basically this was my other main idea on how this could have gone. I purposefully kept this one shorter, because i only wanted to focus on this part of the story, but i left it open enough that if i wanted i could write a sequel (who knows... but let's not be too hopeful, shall we)  
> The other one was that Oswald came up with a better plan for the murder than "eh idk cut her brakes i guess" (check "Tear it all to shreds" for that one - ........shameless self-promotion?? in my notes at the end of a story?? mORE LIKELY THAT YOU T- you get it), while in this one he simply loses his shit (as he is known to do) and kills her on accident.  
> I just really liked the concept of him panicking coming home covered in blood and Edward being like "what tHE FUCK", and i know it's angsty but i swear so many scenes were so funny to me, i had a blast writing this lmao
> 
> also, i want to point out that before this week i hadn't written fan fiction in years and now here i am, posting two in the span of a week, so like... yeah i'm on a roll, babeyy *puts on some sick shades or something idk*


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